


A Matter of Trust

by surrexi



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode Tag, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-21
Updated: 2011-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-27 15:43:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/297441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surrexi/pseuds/surrexi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of the events on Founder's Day, Elena must decide which Salvatore brother she can really trust. (AU post-1x22)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written in the summer of 2010 (after the S1 finale initially aired), beta'd by my friend Nikki (unbrokensky@lj), and posted on LJ. It has, of course, been jossed beyond belief since then. But I still enjoyed writing it and am proud of it, so I'm archiving it here as well.

_Some love is just a lie of the soul  
A constant battle for the ultimate state of control  
After you've heard lie upon lie  
There can hardly be a question of why  
Some love is just a lie of the heart  
The cold remains of what began with a passionate start  
But that can't happen to us  
Because it's always been a matter of trust_

 _\- "A Matter of Trust" by Billy Joel_

  
Elena smells the blood before she gets to the kitchen, and even as her heart catches in her throat and her stomach sinks to the floor, her mind rebels against the possibilities flashing by at light speed. _Not today_ , she thinks. _Not after everything else._

She reaches the kitchen door and stifles a scream, her eyes riveted to John’s still form. She’s disliked him for so long, is so angry about what he’d nearly done to people she cares about, but even if he weren’t her father she wouldn’t have wished death on him, least of all one so blood-soaked. His eyes are lifeless; he’s already gone and Elena feels bile rise when she sees his fingerless right hand.

“Hello, Elena.”

Elena freezes at the sound of her own voice coming from across the room. She’s afraid to look up but she can’t _not_ look up and when she does, she grips the doorframe for support and wishes she knew where Jeremy and Jenna were and that she hadn’t left her cell phone by the front door. She wills her voice to be steady.

“Katherine,” she manages. It’s not a question; there are no other possibilities.

Katherine smiles, and it’s Elena’s own smile with a chilling edge. Katherine walks slowly towards Elena, skirting around the kitchen island and nonchalantly stepping over John’s body. She stops in front of Elena and tilts her head slightly to one side, evaluating.

“Isobel was right,” she murmurs. “It’s like looking in a mirror.” She trails a fingertip down the side of Elena’s face and Elena can’t quite keep herself from shuddering and jerking her face away. “Fascinating,” Katherine adds, smirking slightly at Elena’s resistance.

Elena draws up her courage and blurts out, “What are you doing here?”

Katherine laughs coldly. “I should think that’s quite obvious.”

“But why?”

“Because he was a self-righteous prick who had outlived his usefulness.” Katherine smiles tightly. “I did you a favor, Elena. You should be grateful.” She stares at Elena for several more seconds, shakes her head, and pushes past Elena to head towards the front door. Elena whirls to watch her, but fear roots her to the spot so she cannot follow.

“I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again soon, Elena,” Katherine says over her shoulder. She opens the door and looks back at Elena. “We do, after all, share a common interest. Well,” she amends with a sharp smirk, “to be specific, it’s more like _two_ common interests. I should have known the Salvatore brothers wouldn’t learn anything from even their own history.”

Before Elena can think of an adequate reply, Katherine slips outside and shuts the door behind her. Elena hears a faint whooshing sound, and she knows Katherine is vamp-speeding her way off into the night. Shaking, it takes Elena a full minute to let go of the kitchen doorframe and begin putting one foot in front of the other in the direction of the foyer and her cell phone. It isn’t that John is dead that has her so petrified, or even that he’s dead at the hands of a vampire. It’s that the vampire in question is Katherine Pierce, and if there’s one person who can rip Elena’s world apart with the flick of a finger, it’s Katherine.

When Elena finally makes it to the phone and picks it up, it rings before she can press the button to call the last number dialed, and she doesn’t even look at the caller ID before answering.

“Yes?” she says, slightly breathless.

“Elena,” she hears, and she thinks she’s never been so glad to hear Damon’s voice, even if it does sound strangely hesitant and un-Damon-like. “I know I shouldn’t have called, but I wanted to see if you were…”

Elena cuts him off. “Damon, I need help. I need… I got home and John is dead, and I haven’t even gotten the chance to look for Jenna and Jeremy, and…” she breaks off, unable to continue. Damon’s voice is urgent in her ear.

“What? Elena, are you all right? What happened?”

“She killed him,” Elena says, and the silence on the other end of the connection is palpable. “She killed John,” she repeats, as if she still isn’t convinced it’s true.

Finally Damon speaks, and Elena incredulously wonders if she actually hears a tremor in his voice. “Who? Who killed John?”

“Katherine,” Elena says numbly. “She’s back.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Damon feels like an idiot. A soft-headed, soft-hearted, totally-unlike-himself _idiot_. First he pulls the remarkably stupid move of falling in love with Elena Gilbert (and he still doesn’t quite know how exactly _that_ happened), then he lets her _get to him_ , lets her affect him in ways that pre-Elena Damon would have found appalling. He can’t quite put his finger on when, but somewhere along the line Elena had become the voice in his head like his own personal Jiminy Cricket, nagging and buzzing until he opened himself up to guilt again, opened himself up to _feeling_ again.

It would be one thing, he thinks, if he just wanted her with no thought for the consequences. If he didn’t care that it would hurt Stefan, didn’t care that even if she willingly chose him over Stefan it would still hurt her to do it, that as long as he had her that would be all that mattered. But he doesn’t just want her, he _loves_ her, and he hates that it makes him allow himself to feel guilty. For all his bravado in the face of Stefan’s laughable jealous boyfriend routine, Damon still feels a tickle of guilt over kissing Elena, over hoping that she’ll pick him, over the fact that he wants to force the issue at all.

He stares at his phone. He shouldn’t call her, he knows it. He’s not some lovesick schoolboy, he’s not his brother. He doesn’t _do_ this sort of emotional minefield-crossing stuff. He doesn’t call a girl to talk about his feelings.

He wants to call Elena to talk about his feelings. To talk about _her_ feelings. He wants to call her and ask her to pick him and hates that. He wants to call her and tell her he’ll be noble and not cross lines anymore no matter where she chooses to draw them and hates that even more. He picks up his phone and wonders in disgust just when he turned into his brother.

Elena answers quickly. “Yes?”

“Elena,” he begins, cursing his own hesitance. “I know I shouldn’t have called, but I wanted to see if you were…”

Elena interrupts him, and he can hear panic and fear in her voice and if he concentrates he can actually hear her wildly accelerated heartbeat through the cell connection. Every muscle in his body tenses. “Damon,” she says, “I need help. I need… I got home and John is dead, and I haven’t even gotten the chance to look for Jenna and Jeremy, and…” She trails off and Damon hears her catch her breath and imagines her biting her lip to stave off tears.

“What?” he asks urgently. “Elena, are you all right? What happened?”

Elena takes a shuddering breath. “She killed him. She killed John.”

Damon thinks, _Isobel_ , but then he remembers how ‘Elena’ had relaxed minutely when Jenna had said she ought to come inside and realizes that Elena said she got home and hadn’t had the chance to _look_ for Jenna, and a tight ball of dread forms in the vicinity of Damon’s heart. “Who?” he says, cursing himself for sounding slightly unsteady. “Who killed John?”

“Katherine,” Elena answers, and Damon is already out the door of the house when she adds unnecessarily, “she’s back.”

“Don’t move,” he snaps into the phone. “I’ll be there in a minute. Less. Just don’t move.” He disconnects, shoves the phone in his pocket, and lays on the most speed he can muster. He doesn’t know where Stefan is; right now he doesn’t really care, either. He just wants to get to Elena and sort out the repercussions of Katherine’s return later. True to his word, less than a minute later he bursts through Elena’s front door and finds her standing at the bottom of the stairs, staring up into the upstairs hallway.

“Elena,” Damon says, and she turns around. Her face is blank and Damon curses Katherine for the millionth time since she turned him _and_ Stefan.

“I’m afraid to go up,” she says quietly. “I’m afraid of what I’ll find. Damon, what if she killed Jeremy? Or Jenna?”

Damon’s never seen Elena like this, petrified to inaction, and it worries him more than wailing would, cuts at him deeper than tears. He grabs her by the shoulders and stares at her face until she raises her eyes to his.

“I’ll check them,” he says steadily. “Just stay here and…” The words “call Stefan” stick in Damon’s throat and he can’t bring himself to say them, not yet. He trails off, kisses Elena’s forehead softly and whispers against her skin. “I’ll take care of it,” he says, and hopes it’s not a lie.

Elena nods mutely, and Damon reluctantly slips past her. He takes the stairs two at a time, and he can hear the steady beat of Jenna’s heart before he reaches the top. He stops, concentrates, and decides she’s sleeping peacefully. Considering what she’d already seen that night and what she would see now, he thinks it’s probably best he doesn’t wake her.

He turns toward Jeremy’s room and before he even pushes open the door, he hears the sluggish pace of the boy’s heart. He finds Jeremy curled on his bed, heartbeat and respiration dangerously slow, but no outward signs of trauma. Katherine hadn’t been here, hadn’t touched Jeremy, of that Damon is sure. But something is wrong, and Damon remembers his conversation earlier, the questions about vampires turning off their feelings and if it was easier.

“Shit.” Damon is in the bathroom connecting Jeremy and Elena’s bedrooms in two strides and a stream of curses turns the air blue when he sees the empty prescription bottle next to a mostly-emptied vial of blood. _Anna_ , he thinks. _Oh, Anna, what did you do?_ He picks up the bottle and the vial and steels himself to go downstairs.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Elena waits until Damon reaches the top of the stairs before finally giving in to the weakness in her knees. She sinks down, finds herself sitting on the third step, and leans her head against the banister. _Pull yourself together, Gilbert_ , she thinks. _This is bad, but you’re not going to help matters by falling apart._ She tries to take a deep breath to calm herself, but the scent of John’s blood has made its way to the foyer and she chokes back a cough.

She wonders what they’ll do about John. Let his body be discovered? The sheriff isn’t likely to accept a random house invasion theory, especially if she knows anything about John’s ring. Can they afford further vampire-related scrutiny?

Elena hears Damon’s footsteps on the steps behind her and braces herself for bad news, willing herself to stop being so paralyzed. Damon’s there, and she trusts him to protect her, and she’s not going to question that right now. Damon crouches down so that they’re eye-to-eye, takes her hands in his, and he looks so serious that her heart catches in her throat.

“Katherine didn’t touch them,” Damon says without preamble. “I doubt she even thought about it as long as they weren’t in her way.” Elena lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, but Damon isn’t finished. “Jenna’s sleeping.” He pauses, and Elena’s fingers tighten around his.

“Jeremy?” she whispers.

Damon extricates one of his hands from hers and pulls something out of his pocket. He puts it in her hand and she sees it’s an empty bottle of her painkillers from after the accident. “How many of these were left, Elena?”

“I don’t know,” she says, confused. “Less than half as many as I started with, but more than a few.”

Damon puts something else in her hand. “I found it, empty, along with this.”

Elena looks down and sees the remnants of blood in a little glass vial. For a moment her brain refuses to process the information, but then she gasps, “Jeremy!” She shoots to her feet, but Damon keeps hold of her hand to keep her from rushing up the stairs.

“He’s still alive, but barely. He made his choice, but now you have one to make as well.” Damon keeps his eyes steady on hers, and she thinks if she weren’t so upset she’d appreciate that he gives it to her straight and doesn’t sugarcoat. “If we take him to the hospital, they _might_ be able to save him. But Elena,” he continues, squeezing her fingers, “they might _not_. And then when he wakes up a few hours later, there would be a lot of explaining to do in the morgue regarding his body being missing and he would have to leave Mystic Falls. You wouldn’t be able to see him as long as you’re here.”

“Oh, God,” Elena says softly. “Jeremy…”

She locks eyes with Damon, and in his she sees pity, and regret, and something terrifyingly like love and very little of the soulless monster she had once assumed Damon to be.

“I talked to him earlier,” Damon says softly. “He’s hurting. Over what we did to him, over losing Anna, and even over Vicki. I offered to make him forget again – my deluded attempt to do the right thing – and he said that even when he didn’t remember what happened with Vicki, he still felt the emptiness.” Damon hesitates and Elena feels guilt moving through her in waves. How could she have done so much to hurt her brother? “Anna told him about how vampires can turn off the bad feelings. He asked me if that was what I did. If it was easier.”

“What did you tell him?” Elena doesn’t even think she could blink right now, lost in the intense blue of Damon’s eyes, and if it weren’t for the vervain in the locket around her neck (or, she admits, the fact that since Atlanta she trusts Damon implicitly not to do it) she would be wondering if this was what it felt like to be compelled.

“I told him the truth,” Damon says, his voice sounding rough. He raises his free hand to her cheek and Elena decides not to acknowledge the electric way it makes her skin feel. It isn’t the time, isn’t the place. And Damon’s still talking. “I told him that it was what I did for a very long time.”

“Did?” Elena says softly. Damon nods nearly imperceptibly.

“And I told him that life sucks either way, but that it was easier before.”

Elena closes her eyes. She can’t handle what she sees in Damon’s, not when she’s just reassured Stefan he has nothing to worry about where Damon is concerned. She thinks about Jeremy, about how happy he used to be. She thinks about the way Stefan was when he fell off the wagon, the way Vicki was before she died.

“He’s my brother, Damon,” she finally says. She opens her eyes and meets Damon’s gaze again. “I have to try. I have to.”

Damon nods. “I know you do, Elena.” He pulls her against his chest and God help her, she goes willingly, burying her face against his shirt and inhaling his cologne. She doesn’t stop him from stroking her hair and she doesn’t stop him from kissing the top of her head. “I’ll drive you to the hospital; it’ll be faster than an ambulance.”

He’s up the stairs before Elena can blink, and she blindly grabs her keys and her phone and stuffs them in her pockets. By the time she’s finished, Damon is back beside her, Jeremy’s limp form cradled in his arms. “Let’s go,” he says, and Elena opens the front door.

She’s halfway to the car when she stops dead. “What about John?”

Damon nudges her along. “I hate to break it to you, Elena, but there’s nothing the doctors can do for him.”

Elena scowls. She might be more used to snarky Damon, but that doesn’t mean she wants to deal with that right now. “What are we going to do about him?” she asks impatiently. “What if Jenna wakes up and finds him?” She opens the door to the backseat of her car and Damon lays Jeremy’s still form along the seat.

“Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it,” Damon suggests, holding out a hand for Elena’s car keys. “Jeremy needs help now if he’s going to benefit from it at all.”

Elena gives Damon the keys, nods, and slips into the passenger seat. “Go, then.”


	2. Chapter 2

Damon wishes that the fact that he’s been driving since the car was invented doesn’t mean he never really has to think about it anymore, because he’d rather be concentrating on speed and steering than trying to figure out how to clean up the mess they’ve found themselves in. And he really doesn’t want to think about the fact that he hadn’t kissed _Elena_ that night, but _Katherine_. He doesn’t want to analyze why he’s so disappointed about it, doesn’t want to think about how Katherine is going to react to the situation, _really_ doesn’t want to think about what’s going to happen now that Katherine has blown back into their lives.

He’s momentarily distracted from his what-ifs and contingency plans by Elena sniffling next to him. He glances over and sees she’s valiantly trying to hold back tears. Without letting himself think about it, he takes her hand and laces his fingers with hers. He’s mildly surprised when she doesn’t pull away and he looks over again to find her gazing at him with an odd look on her face.

“You’re a lot more than you want people to believe you are, Damon,” she says quietly.

Damon pulls his hand away and looks back at the road. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Elena. What you see is what you get.” Elena shakes her head, and Damon knows she doesn’t believe him for a second. He can’t decide how he feels about that and he’s back to hating how _mushy_ Elena Gilbert makes him feel.

Moments later the car screeches to a halt in front of the ER entrance. “I’ll get Jeremy out, you go in ahead and get someone.”

Jeremy’s still breathing and his heart is still beating, and Damon thinks that if he believed in any higher powers he’d be consulting with them now. He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want to deal with the monumental problem that a public death would be once Jeremy woke up again a vampire, but in the back of his mind he knows that’s not the reason, or at least not the _whole_ reason.

He can’t use his vamp speed in public, but he hurries through the hospital doors and spots Elena standing at the desk talking to the nurse on duty, gesturing with the empty prescription bottle. By the time he reaches Elena’s side, the nurse has paged someone and a stretcher arrives, on which Damon deposits Jeremy.

Damon watches Elena as Jeremy is wheeled out of sight and he can see the pain etched in every line of her body. She turns to him, and he can read a thousand things in her eyes he thinks she’ll never say out loud, at least not to him.

“Thank you,” she finally says.

She looks so lost and so vulnerable and Damon remembers standing with her in the rain and pleading with her to understand why she couldn’t follow him into a house full of angry vampires. This, he thinks, is why he doesn’t want to feel all these emotional connections to family, to lovers. She’s so strong, yet she’s brought to a standstill when someone she loves is in danger beyond her reach. He pulls her into his arms and once again she lets him, this time wrapping her own around his waist.

“You don’t ever have to thank me,” he mutters against her hair. He rubs comforting circles over her back, cradles her head against his chest and runs his hand soothingly over her curls. “It’s going to be all right.” He feels her shake her head slightly and though it makes him feel foolish, softly kisses her hair. “No matter what happens to him, I’ll make it all right.”

Elena is still plastered against him and he’s still stroking her hair when Stefan appears at the end of the hall. Damon stiffens slightly as the worried look on Stefan’s face morphs into a slightly thunderous one at the sight of Elena in Damon’s arms. But Damon doesn’t let go and doesn’t say anything, just meets his brother’s angry glare with a bland but steady look.

Stefan reaches them a moment later. “What’s going on?” he says, and there’s an edge to his voice that gives away precisely how he feels about finding Elena where she is.

Elena jumps slightly, but Damon keeps one arm slung around her shoulders and she doesn’t actually step away. “Stefan!” she says.

Stefan steps closer to her and cups her cheek. “What happened? I was waiting for you with Matt and Tyler by where they’ve got Caroline, and the sheriff came up to us and said Jeremy had been brought in. Why didn’t you call me?”

Elena removes her arm from Damon’s waist and steps into Stefan’s embrace. Damon hates that he can’t help but feel a little bereft, and when she turns her face to look at him, he meets her eyes and it feels just like the night they met with Isobel.

“There wasn’t time,” Damon says before Elena can answer, and she drops her eyes guiltily. “We need to talk,” he adds, voice tight.

“I really don’t think this is the time,” Stefan mutters.

Elena pulls back slightly, looks up at him. “Katherine’s back,” she says without preamble. Stefan’s eyes fly to Damon’s and he steps back from Elena in shock, as if he’s afraid she might _be_ Katherine. Damon does not appreciate the irony of this.

“I told you we need to talk,” he says. He gets the attention of the nurse at the desk and asks if there’s a place they can wait with some privacy. He’s ready to compel her if necessary, but she seems to take pity on them and leads them to a curtained-off area. “It’s the best I can do,” she says apologetically, and Damon tells her it’ll be fine.

Stefan is still giving Elena a wide berth, so Damon puts a hand on the small of her back and nudges her to a chair. “Sit down,” he says quietly. She does, and he brushes his fingers across her shoulder before taking the chair next to hers. Frowning, Stefan grabs the third chair and pulls it in front of Damon and Elena before sitting down.

“Tell me,” he says. “Did…” He pauses, like he doesn’t want to or can’t say Katherine’s name. “Did she hurt Jeremy?”

“No,” Damon replies. “No, the kid did this to himself.” He meets Stefan’s eyes. “Anna gave him some of her blood before she died. Yeah,” he says at the horrified look on Stefan’s face. Elena flinches, and Damon pats her knee. “We might have gotten to him in time.” She nods and takes a deep breath.

“After I got off the phone with you,” she begins, “I went into the house. I called out for Jeremy and heard a noise in the kitchen. When I got back there, John was on the floor and there was all this blood, and his fingers had been cut off… he’s dead.” She shakes her head, but continues. “And then she said my name, and I looked up and she was there. She must have posed as me to get into the house, I don’t know how she managed to get Jenna or Jeremy to invite her in…”

Damon clears his throat. “I do.” Stefan and Elena look at him in surprise. “Didn’t get the chance to tell you,” he says to Elena, “but I saw her when I left after talking to Jeremy. I thought she was you. We were… talking on the porch, and Jenna opened the door and told you – her – that it was getting late and she should come inside. Invitation accomplished.”

“You were… talking?” Stefan asks, perfectly duplicating the hitch in Damon’s rhythm when he’d said it.

Damon looks at his brother, and if it weren’t for the fact that it was Katherine he’d ‘talked’ to and not Elena, he might have actually blurted out the whole truth and damned the consequences. “Yes, Stefan. Believe it or not, Elena and I do have conversations sometimes. I had things I wanted to say to her, so I did. Or thought I did. Katherine does a surprisingly good impression of Elena.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “In retrospect, there were some tells. She won’t fool me again,” he adds bitterly, and he knows he doesn’t just mean by pretending to be Elena. “I’m done letting that bitch pull my strings,” he mutters.


	3. Chapter 3

Elena doesn’t like knowing that Katherine is good at acting like Elena. She’s worried about Jeremy, she’s worried about what they’re going to do about John, she’s worried about how to protect her friends from someone who looks and apparently can act just like her, and at the moment she’s _very_ worried about the fact that Stefan hasn’t touched her or met her eyes since she told him Katherine was back.

A few weeks ago if someone had told Elena that Katherine would come back and one of the Salvatore brothers would stand with her and one would pull away, she’d have believed them, but only if they’d said Stefan would stand and Damon would pull away. She’s not sure how to handle the fact that it’s turning out to be the other way around.

She hears Damon mutter that he’s not letting Katherine pull his strings anymore and is surprised at how readily she believes it of him. She pushes aside the thought that he’s only able to mean it because it’s Elena’s hands holding the ends now. She hears Isobel’s voice in her head. _Because he’s in love with you._ She looks at Damon, with his clenched jaw and purposeful face. She looks at Stefan, who just looks bewildered. _He loves me too_ , she tells herself, but suddenly she’s more worried than ever that he’s still tied up in knots where Katherine’s concerned. She looks down at her hands because it hurts to look at Stefan when he won’t look at her.

“Someone should go take care of John,” she says, partly because it has to be said and partly just to fill the silence.

“Stefan should go,” Damon says immediately, and Stefan looks up from a studied evaluation of the floor.

“Why shouldn’t I stay with Elena? You’re better at disposing of bodies than I am anyway.”

Damon grins for the first time in hours. “That may be, brother, but I brought in Jeremy, not you. They’re gonna want to talk to me. Elena’s certainly not going. That leaves you. Call Alaric, he’ll help. He needs to know Katherine’s back anyway. We don’t want him accidentally inviting her in thinking she’s Elena.”

“Damon’s right,” Elena says to her folded hands, surprising herself. There’s something else she’d never have predicted happening a few weeks ago. But if Stefan can’t even look her in the eye, it won’t exactly be helpful to have him around. Damon might be, well, _Damon_ , and thus come with a host of complications and issues, but at least he’s willing to give her a hug if she needs it. She looks up at Stefan and he’s staring at a point approximately six inches to the left of her ear, looking confused.

“You should go,” she says softly. “Get Alaric, take care of John.” She shudders slightly knowing what that means, but she supposes there’s nothing to be done about it. “Don’t wake Jenna until you’ve gotten rid of all the blood,” she adds. “In fact, better not wake her until I can be there. Then I guess we’ll have to tell her about Jeremy.”

“I’ll make sure the Founders’ Council just thinks John has disappeared as suddenly as he blew back into town,” Damon says. “Just make sure his body won’t turn up in a couple months like Vicki’s did.”

Stefan looks like he wants to object, but then he just gets to his feet. He starts to lean down towards Elena like he’s going to kiss her goodbye, but he freezes before he moves more than an inch or so. “Fine,” he says, and he turns and leaves without another word. Elena opens her mouth to say goodbye, but the word won’t come out.

“Well,” Damon says, his voice full of acidic cheerfulness. “That went well, don’t you think?”

Elena turns her head to look at Damon, and is slightly mortified when her eyes fill with tears. She buries her face in her hands and leans over, bracing her elbows on her knees.

“Hey,” Damon says, and she thinks he sounds equal parts sorry and surprised. His arm comes around her back and she feels his breath against her ear when he leans over to speak to her. “Look, I’m sure he’ll come around. Eventually.” He doesn’t say it, but Elena’s pretty sure he’s thinking _maybe_. He gently pulls her hands away from her face and cups her cheek so she’ll turn her face to him. “Don’t let him make this even harder for you than it already is.”

Elena nods and attempts a watery smile. “Thanks,” she says.

“I told you, you don’t have to thank me for this.”

“Thanks anyway.” Elena leans into his hand for a second, then shifts to lay her head on Damon’s shoulder.

They sit in silence for a few minutes until a solemn-faced doctor pulls aside the curtain and takes Stefan’s vacated seat. Elena sits up quickly and is strangely relieved when Damon doesn’t move his arm from around her shoulders. “Doctor?” she asks tentatively.

“Miss Gilbert, I’m Dr. Sheffield. We’ve stabilized your brother and placed him on IV fluids and given him a drug to counter what he took. We’ve given him a sedative so he’ll sleep through the night. There’s still some degree of chance here, but if he makes it through until tomorrow afternoon without his liver or kidneys deteriorating further then I think we can be pretty positive about his outlook.”

“Thank God,” Elena breathes, and she relaxes slightly against Damon’s side.

“You’re lucky you found him when you did, and that you knew what he’d taken. If you’d brought him in any later, we’d be having a different conversation.”

Elena swallows convulsively and nods. “Can I see him?”

“Well, as I’ve said, he is sedated and he won’t be waking up until at least the late morning. But if you’d like to sit with him, I can arrange for that.”

The doctor looks at Damon. “Mr. Salvatore, I believe the sheriff wishes to have a word with you.” She gets to her feet and motions for Damon and Elena to do the same. “If you’ll follow me,” she says, turning to leave the curtained area. Damon rests his hand low on Elena’s back as they walk though the hospital halls toward the ICU. “Wait here.” The doctor goes off to speak with one of the nurses. A moment later the nurse comes over to them.

“Miss Gilbert,” the nurse says, opening the door they’re standing in front of, “you can go in now.” She looks over at Damon. “The sheriff is waiting to speak to you down the hall.”

Damon leans down a little and meets Elena’s eyes. “I’ll come back as soon as I’m done with the sheriff, okay?”

Elena nods and wonders if she should feel guilty for how much she doesn’t want Damon to leave her alone. He watches her face with standard Damon Salvatore intensity for several seconds before nodding in response, and she wonders what he reads behind her eyes. His hand slips away from her back and she watches him walk away with the nurse until he is motioned into a room several doors down the hallway.

Sighing, Elena goes into her brother’s room and shuts the door behind her. She walks slowly to the bed, scoots one of the unyielding hospital chairs closer to it and sits down.

“I’m so, so sorry, Jere,” she says quietly, taking his hand. “And I know you’ll probably hate me if you pull through, but…” She looks at their joined hands and remembers a long ago fall morning, Jeremy’s first day of kindergarten. They’d taken the bus and Jeremy had clasped her hand tightly the whole way to the school. It had made her seven-year-old self feel very grown-up and protective. Ten years later, she thinks, and here she is holding his hand again, still feeling protective.

She feels like after all they’ve been through, it might be fair to say they don’t just _feel_ like grown-ups anymore, and that _being_ grown-ups isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.


	4. Chapter 4

Damon walks into the room where the sheriff is waiting and fixes a grim smile on his face. “Liz,” he says, extending his hand. “How’s your daughter? Stefan mentioned she was being treated here.”

Liz shakes her head. “She’s in surgery. Car accident with some of her friends.” She grimaces slightly, tries for a smile. “We’re hopeful. Tell me, what happened with Jeremy Gilbert? Why did you bring him in? Wasn’t John there?”

Damon shakes his head. “No, I haven’t seen him since before the fireworks. You?”

“No,” Liz says with a frown. “Did you know about the plan he and the mayor hatched?”

She sounds angry and Damon holds up his hands, palms out. “No, they didn’t tell me. John Gilbert and I have many… differences of opinion regarding how to handle Mystic Falls’ little problem. He doesn’t confide in me.” Damon lowers his hands, puts them in his pockets. “In answer to your question about Jeremy, I brought him in because John’s AWOL, Jenna is out on a date, and I had just stopped by the Gilbert place looking for Stefan when Elena found Jeremy.” Damon shrugs. “We figured it would be better to get Jeremy here quickly and then worry about getting a hold of Jenna and John.”

Liz nods. “You’re sure this was a suicide attempt? Not a targeted attack on a member of the founding families?”

Damon shakes his head. “No, we found Elena’s empty prescription bottle right there, and I’ve made sure she and Jeremy always have vervain with them, so he can’t have been compelled.”

“Have you tried to contact Jenna or John?”

“I sent Stefan back to the Gilbert house so he’ll be there whenever they get back.”

“Good,” Liz says. She glances at her watch. “I need to get back to Matt and Tyler, and I’m sure Elena could use some moral support.”

Damon nods. “I’m sure she could. I hope Caroline’s surgery goes well.”

“Thanks,” Liz says tightly before leaving the room.

Damon lets out a short puff of air and wishes he could rewind a few months to when he was having fun playing the Founders’ Council for fools. “Things were definitely easier,” he mutters as he walks back to Jeremy’s room, thinking of their conversation earlier that night. _But maybe not as worthwhile_ , says the little voice in the back of his mind that sounds suspiciously like Elena.

He’s about to push open the door when the nurse from earlier stops him. “I’m sorry, Mr. Salvatore, but we really can’t allow more than one person in the room at a time.”

 _Like hell_ , Damon thinks. He touches her shoulder, meets her eyes. “You’ll make an exception for me,” he says, compelling her with almost no effort.

“Yes, of course,” she murmurs. “Go right in, young man.”

Damon smiles wryly and pushes open the door. “Thank you,” he says quietly.

Elena’s sitting in a chair next to Jeremy’s bed, leaning against the mattress and tracing patterns on the back of Jeremy’s hand. Damon shuts the door behind him with a click, and she straightens and looks over her shoulder at him.

“Damon,” she says, and he thinks she might actually sound happy to see him, or at least as happy as she’s going to sound under the circumstances. He gives her a small smile, watches her face intently.

“How’re you holding up?” he asks.

She shrugs. “I’m trying to tell myself it could be worse, but given the day I’ve had, I’m having trouble entertaining that particular notion.”

Damon comes up behind her and puts his hands on her shoulders, begins to knead the tension out of them. “Could be raining?” he suggests, and Elena lets out a mirthless laugh. But her shoulders relax under his hands, and he watches the fluttering pulse in her neck, wonders what it would feel like under his lips, and thinks his timing couldn’t be much worse, either.

They stay like that for several minutes, until Damon gives her shoulders a final squeeze and pulls another chair next to hers and sits down. Elena turns so she’s half facing Damon and half facing the bed. She stares at the floor for a minute or so, and Damon can tell she’s thinking about something, perhaps trying to choose her words. He waits.

“He’s still in love with her, isn’t he?” she says finally, and Damon doesn’t pretend he doesn’t know she’s not talking about Jeremy and Vicki or Anna.

“Probably,” he admits. “She was… the center of our world. For a long time, even after we thought she was gone. I don’t think he’s really dealt with that.”

Elena looks up from the floor. “And you have?”

Damon stiffens slightly; she doesn’t sound like she believes it and he doesn’t like knowing she’s probably right. “I think,” he says carefully, “that I don’t want to let her use me again. I think that I’m angrier at her than Stefan is, and that makes it easier for me.”

Elena looks like she’s about to say something, but the doctor from before pokes her head in the door just then.

“I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave now. As I said before, he won’t wake up until tomorrow morning at the earliest and we can’t permit you to stay with him for long periods of time.” The doctor shoos them out of the room, barely giving Elena time to lean down and brush a kiss on Jeremy’s forehead, but Damon thinks it would be better for Elena to get a few hours of sleep somewhere instead of staying up by Jeremy’s bedside all night, so he doesn’t try to compel the doctor into changing her mind. “Come back in the morning, and we’ll give you an update on his condition. Bring your aunt this time,” the doctor admonishes.

“I will,” Elena assures her.

Elena falls asleep almost as soon as Damon pulls out of the parking lot and he knows he was right to let the doctor kick them out and send them home. He pulls out his cell phone and calls his brother.

“How’s cleanup going?” he asks without preamble when Stefan answers.

“We’re just finishing getting rid of the blood in the kitchen.”

“And the body?”

Stefan sighs. “Still have to get rid of it.”

“You should burn it,” Damon says. “Go somewhere in the middle of nowhere and burn and bury.”

“You don’t think that’s a little bit of overkill?” Stefan asks, sounding slightly surprised.

“Burying Vicki in the woods wasn’t enough; her body still turned up to cause some more trouble.” Damon grimaces. “If John Gilbert’s body turned up, it would only serve to put the Council on high alert. I can only run so much interference, brother.”

Damon can practically _hear_ Stefan rolling his eyes. “Right,” Stefan says. “How’s Jeremy?”

“Holding stable,” Damon says. “I’m bringing Elena home now.”

Stefan is silent for a moment, then: “How is she?”

“She’s asleep. She’s not Katherine,” Damon adds pointedly. “I believe we were discussing just that this morning and you were the one who thought _I_ needed reminding.”

“I know,” Stefan mutters. “I’ll call you when Alaric and I have finished taking care of the body. The kitchen’s clean. Tell Elena…” He trails off, lets out a frustrated stream of air. “Tell her I’ll talk to her later.”

He disconnects without waiting for Damon to answer. Damon remembers talking with Alaric about holding on too long and realizes with some surprise that perhaps he’s let go more than he realized he had, that maybe Stefan’s let go less. He glances at Elena, who is leaning against the car window in sleep. He feels very little desire to go looking for Katherine, at least not with the purpose of having a romantic reunion, but he wonders if he’d ever have reached this point without Elena’s presence in his life.

He still doesn’t have an answer to the question when he parks her car in the driveway, where there’s no sign of Stefan and Alaric. Elena stirs slightly when he gently lifts her out of the car, but doesn’t wake until he shifts her in his arms so he can unlock her front door.

“Damon?” she murmurs, eyes still closed.

“I’m just taking you home,” he says quietly, and she lifts her arms to circle them loosely around his neck.

“Mmm-kay.” She rests her head trustingly where his neck meets his shoulder and he tries not to think about or acknowledge how that makes him feel.

Damon shuts and locks the front door behind them, not that something as petty as a locked door will keep Katherine out if she decides to come back. He carries Elena upstairs and goes straight to her room, not bothering to turn any lights on. He doesn’t need them anyway. He lays her down on her bed and removes her shoes before pulling the blankets up over her. He’s about to leave her alone to sleep, plans on raiding the late Uncle John’s liquor supply and brooding in the living room until morning, but Elena grabs his wrist.

“Don’t go,” she says, and she opens her eyes to give him a pleading look.

Damon raises an eyebrow in a defensively sardonic manner, and Elena narrows her eyes.

“I just don’t want to be alone,” she says tiredly. “I would feel safer. And I trust you,” she adds, “not to take advantage.”

Damon sighs, doesn’t want to feel the emotions warring in his heart at her request. But he’s already toeing off his shoes. He manages to summon a trademark leer. “You might trust me not to take advantage, but can _I_ trust _you_?” He widens his eyes suggestively.

“What did I tell you about that eye thing?” Elena asks, trying to sound stern but foiled by a yawn mid-sentence.

“Move over,” Damon says gruffly. “If I’m staying it’s not gonna be on the floor.”

Elena hesitates, but then scoots to one side of the bed and lifts the duvet to allow Damon to slip under it. They lay on their sides, facing each other across the pillows. “We have to get up before Jenna,” she starts to say, but then yawns again.

“Shut up and sleep, Elena,” Damon scolds her. “I’ll wake you in a few hours so we can get our stories straight.”

Elena shuts her eyes and is quiet long enough that Damon thinks she’s gone back to sleep, but then she whispers softly, “Thank you.”

Damon says nothing, just reaches over and traces a finger lightly over her cheekbone and tucks an errant curl behind her ear.


	5. Chapter 5

Elena’s dreams are chaotic and terrifying, involving lots of running and hands grabbing at her and her own voice chasing after her with taunts and threats. Then through the fog of fear and panic, she hears a deeper voice calling her name, and it sounds worried and soothing at the same time, and she fights toward it.

She wakes in her own bed, and by the light of her bedside lamp she can see that Damon Salvatore is leaning over her, holding both her wrists and with one leg weighing down hers. “Shh, Elena,” he murmurs, and her breath catches in her throat at the look in his eyes. “Back with us?” he asks, letting go of one of her arms and brushing his thumb over her cheekbone.

Elena nods. “Bad dream,” she offers.

“You don’t say,” Damon murmurs, smiling. “If I weren’t in possession of miraculous healing powers, I’d have bruises by now.”

“Oh, God, I’m sorry,” Elena says, and she can feel her cheeks going pink with embarrassment but she doesn’t look away from Damon’s face.

“Miraculous healing powers,” he repeats, and Elena thinks he shouldn’t be able to speak in a tone so light when his eyes are so intense. “No bruise, no foul.”

They stare at each other for several seconds and Elena suddenly realizes exactly where they are and how much of his body is pressed against hers and how his lips are inches away from hers. As soon as she processes it, she can tell he knows what she’s thinking and he does that eye thing she told him not to do and she thinks maybe sometimes he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it and before she can start to wonder if he’s getting closer she forces her racing thoughts to stop. “Damon,” she says, perhaps not as sharply as she (should have) intended, but it’s enough that his eyes shutter slightly and he releases her other wrist and rolls away from her.

He sits up and swings his legs over the side of her bed. “You should get up anyway,” he says, and then he looks at her over his shoulder. “We need to talk, and it’s close to morning.”

Elena sits up and nods. “Just let me change,” she says softly, and wonders why she feels slightly regretful. It’s neither the time nor the place for whatever had just almost passed between them and he’s not the Salvatore she’s supposed to be waking up in bed with anyway.

“I’ll make coffee,” he says, and he’s gone before she can blink.

She shakes her head and gets out of bed. She strips out of yesterday’s clothes and pulls on new ones. She catches a glimpse of her hair in her mirror and winces, then spends several minutes brushing it out before piling it on top of her head in a bun, leaving a few strands to frame her face. She stares at her reflection and thinks about Katherine, and about Stefan, and she remembers how she had felt the first time she saw Katherine’s picture. She’d run, she thinks, and it had been Damon who’d caught her, who’d taken her away and given her time to think. She shoves the thought aside guiltily, takes one last deep breath, and heads downstairs.

True to his word, Damon has brewed coffee and Elena follows the promise of caffeine down the stairs. She hesitates slightly as she approaches the kitchen, but she knows she’ll have to go in there sooner or later, and thinks it might as well be now. She takes a steadying breath and the last few steps she takes towards the doorway are purposeful.

Damon is waiting for her, sitting on one of the stools at the kitchen island. He has a grim smile on his face and she thinks maybe he was testing her, pushing her by waiting for her here instead of taking the coffee and the conversation into the living room, making her deal with it instead of bottling it up. If anyone knew the consequences of that, she realizes, it’s Damon Salvatore. She crosses to him and takes the cup he offers her.

“Thanks,” she says softly. She sits down on the stool next to his and takes a sip of her coffee, resolutely ignoring the spot on the floor where she had last seen John.

Damon nods, and she thinks she sees approval in his eyes. Then he pokers up and takes a sip from a glass of amber liquid, and Elena realizes he’s raided the liquor cabinet. She decides she can’t fault him for it.

“Before we get our story straight,” he says seriously, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

Elena raises her eyebrows; she doesn’t like the tone of Damon’s voice. “Okay,” she says cautiously.

“I didn’t tell the whole story about what happened earlier when I thought Katherine was you.” Damon takes another sip of his drink. “I came over to talk to Jeremy, like I said. And when I was leaving the house, you were – or rather, Katherine was – coming up to the porch. I had things to say to you.”

Elena tilts her head slightly, tries to get a read on what’s going on in Damon’s head, but he’s got years of practice on his poker face and she can’t read him if he’s trying not to let her. “What did you say?” she asks.

Damon shakes his head, but then he downs the rest of his drink and gazes at her, and now she can read determination in his eyes. “I wanted to tell you that I’ve suddenly found myself wanting to do the right thing. By this town, by the people in it. By you. And that I don’t know how or when it happened. It’s not my thing. It’s your thing, Stefan’s thing, Bonnie’s thing.”

Elena reaches out and touches Damon’s hand briefly. “You underestimate yourself.”

“You overestimate me,” Damon responds. “I thanked you, because I know Bonnie only helped Stefan to rescue me because she did it for you, and so somewhere along the line, you decided that I was worth saving.”

Elena nods and thinks, _you are worth saving_ , but doesn’t say it out loud because she can tell he can’t believe it of himself quite yet.

“And then I did this,” he says, and to Elena’s surprise he leans forward and kisses her cheek softly, pulling back only slightly to stare into her eyes.

“Oh,” she says softly, and she finds herself inexplicably even angrier that Katherine had been impersonating her that evening. “And then what happened?”

“Well,” Damon says, his voice gone slightly gravelly, “I leaned in, and you didn’t back away.” As he says the words, he leans in and Elena finds that indeed, she doesn’t _want_ to back away. Damon stops, his lips hovering less than an inch away from hers. “I kissed you. Her.”

Elena opens eyes she hadn’t even realized had fluttered closed and finds herself lost in Damon’s gaze. “Why?”

“I thought it was you,” he says, and his breath tickles her lips and they part ever-so-slightly despite the fact that she knows this shouldn’t happen.

“And then?” she asks, and she’s trying to remember the reasons why she shouldn’t be a breath away from kissing Damon Salvatore, why she should pull away _right now_. Damon doesn’t answer right away, and Elena is pretty sure she’s about to make a massive mistake. She’s trying to recall the curve of Stefan’s smile because surely that would be a reason to put a stop to this when Damon finally breaks the moment.

“Jenna caught us,” he says, and pulls back. “That’s when she said it was late and you – Katherine – should come in.” Elena blinks rapidly, tries to clear the fog from her brain.

“Jenna saw you kissing Katherine?” Elena asks. Damon nods and Elena’s stomach sinks. “Crap,” she mutters. “There’s nothing Jenna hates more than cheaters. I can’t imagine what she thinks of me right now.” She grimaces. “She’ll be even more upset when she gets up and finds you here, which isn’t going to make telling her about Jeremy any easier.”

Damon seems to hesitate for a second. “I could make her forget.”

Elena shakes her head. “After what’s happened with Jeremy?”

“It wouldn’t be like that,” Damon says quickly. “She’s just angry, not traumatized. And,” he adds before Elena can speak, “even if she _does_ feel residual anger, she’ll still be mad at you – and me, for that matter – over not waking her up when we took Jeremy to the hospital, so she won’t notice a little extra mad.”

Elena sighs. She feels like it might be making the same mistake twice and that’s something she hates doing, but Damon’s making sense. They wouldn’t be leaving Jenna with feelings she couldn’t explain, and not having to deal with the repercussions of Jenna seeing a kiss between Elena and Damon that hadn’t even actually happened would make dealing with the repercussions of leaving Jenna asleep in her bed whilst they rushed Jeremy to the hospital after a suicide attempt much easier.

Elena looks up into Damon’s face and maybe he can see that she’s weakening, because he leans forward slightly and his voice is serious when he says “Elena, I need you to trust me. I don’t want another situation like this any more than you do; I wouldn’t have suggested this if I didn’t think it were safe.”

Elena closes her eyes and wonders when exactly she had started trusting Damon as much as she does.

“Do you trust me, Elena?”

Elena opens her eyes, decision made. “I trust you. Do it.”

&&&&&&

Damon doesn’t move a muscle, but he feels some of the tension drain out of his shoulders at Elena’s words. It still surprises him (worries him) how much he craves her trust, how much he wants to earn it.

“All right,” he says. “I’ll do it as soon as she comes down. She won’t remember seeing you at all before going to bed. As for our story, we should make it as simple as possible.”

Elena takes a deep breath. “Okay.”

“We’ll say that right after you found Jeremy, before you had a chance to check to see if Jenna was home, I showed up looking for Stefan.”

“I told you what I’d just found, and you also did not think of looking for Jenna before you rushed me and Jeremy to the hospital.”

Damon nods. “And once we got back, you were so tired I thought it was best to just let you sleep for a little while before we woke Jenna and told her the whole story.” Damon resists the urge to brush his thumb across the dark circles under her eyes, mostly because it makes him feel ridiculous. “You were exhausted, so that part isn’t even a lie.”

“I just wish…” Elena trails off.

“That none of this happened?” Damon asks, somewhat sharper than he intends. “Don’t we all.”

“You’re the one who told my brother it’s easier to live as a vampire and shut off your emotions!” Elena exclaims.

Damon stops himself before he bites off a stinging reply about how she was the one who asked him to wipe Jeremy’s memory of Vicki’s death in the first place, and thinks he must be growing if he’s actually trying to avoid conflict. _How does that happen_ , he thinks, even though he’s pretty sure the answer is now glaring at him.

“He asked,” Damon says wearily. “I told him the truth. I also said that life sucks either way.”

He and Elena stare at each other for a moment, and then Elena shakes her head. “I know,” she mutters. “I’m just edgy and looking for someone to blame. It’s no one’s fault.”

Damon shrugs, speaks in a deliberately light tone. “Blame Stefan, he’s not here to defend himself.”

The corner of Elena’s mouth quirks into a tiny smile before she sobers again. She takes another sip of her coffee and then just gazes into the cup, swirling the liquid around slowly. Damon reaches across the counter and grabs a bottle, pours himself a few more fingers of whiskey.

“Did anyone ever tell you that you drink a lot?” Elena asks conversationally.

“Takes the edge off,” Damon replies automatically.

“So I’ve been told,” Elena says, her voice dry. She swallows down the last of her coffee and grins. “I still think you drink a lot.”

“Just wait till it’s you,” he says without thinking. “Then see how much alcohol you drink in a given week.” Elena stiffens beside him and he realizes what he’s said. “You’re in love with a vampire. It’s going to come up eventually, Elena. He’ll want to keep you.” Damon meets Elena’s guarded gaze, and he can’t quite tell if he’s talking about his brother or himself, isn’t even sure if _she_ knows. He thinks about how forcing Elena to drink his blood was the thing that convinced Stefan to hand over Emily’s grimoire, and wonders if saying that Stefan would ever want to turn Elena makes Damon a liar. He wonders which makes the better man – loving enough to keep her, or loving enough to let her go. Damon’s never been good at letting go, but he’s never cared much about being the better man, either.

They stare at each other wordlessly, and Damon wishes that he could read Elena’s thoughts, because he hates not knowing where he stands with her. It was easier when he didn’t love her and she hated him. At least then he knew how to act around her, knew how to expect her to react.

Finally, Elena drops her gaze back to the empty mug in her hands and says in a painfully awkward must-change-the-subject tone, “What about John?”

Damon blinks. “What about him? Stefan and Alaric are taking care of it.”

“No, I mean…” Elena sets down her mug and pushes it away. “What are we going to say about him when people ask?”

Damon shrugs. “That we haven’t seen him since the fireworks. Hell, for me that’s technically the truth.”

“I suppose,” Elena says. She hugs herself, rubbing her arms as if she were chilled. “I don’t know how to feel. About John, I mean.” She raises her eyes to Damon’s. “I never liked him much, and he tried to kill you and I hated him for that.”

Damon feels his heart lurch when she says it, and he wonders how many people would hate someone for trying to kill him. Most people, he thinks, would probably hand out awards. It’s an odd feeling, mattering that much to someone.

“But he didn’t deserve this,” she adds quietly. “And he was my father. I feel like I should feel something… more. More than just pity for such a violent end. And I feel guilty.”

“Why?” Damon asks curiously. “You couldn’t have stopped Katherine. And if you’d come home any earlier, she might have hurt you to keep you from trying.” Damon pushes the thought away as soon as he says it. He doesn’t want to think about what Katherine could – and still might – do to Elena.

Elena shudders, and Damon thinks she probably wishes he hadn’t said it either. “No, I feel guilty because I feel relieved. He can’t hurt you again. He can’t come after you or Stefan or anyone else I care about anymore, and I’m _relieved_. My _father_ is dead, and I’m _relieved_.”

“Hey,” Damon says, lifting a hand to Elena’s cheek. “Your father died in a car crash and you grieved for him. John Gilbert never earned your loyalty or your love, and the fact that you can pity him after everything he put you through just shows what a good person you are.”

Elena blinks at him. “That’s quite a speech, Damon.”

Damon drops his hand self-consciously. “It’s the truth.”

“Thanks,” she murmurs.

The sun has risen while they talked and now it streams in through the kitchen windows and catches in the strands of Elena’s hair that have escaped from the bun on top of her head, and Damon gives in to the impulse to touch. He tucks a few strands behind her ear and doesn’t miss the way she leans ever so slightly into his touch when the backs of his fingers brush against her cheek.

He’s saved from trying to think of something to say when he hears Jenna moving upstairs.

“That will be Jenna,” he says, and Elena nods. “Are you ready?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she says, and Damon is relieved not to hear uncertainty in her tone. Jenna’s footsteps move towards the stairs.

“And you’re sure you want me to make her forget?”

Elena sighs. “Yes. I wish you didn’t have to, but yes.”

Jenna walks into the kitchen dressed in pajama pants and a tank top and doesn’t even have time to ask what Damon is doing there before he’s blurred to a stop in front of her and made her forget what she’d seen the night before. He blurs back to the stool next to Elena before Jenna can so much as blink.

She does blink, and then starts at the sight of Elena and Damon at the counter. “Damon! What are you doing here so early? Is Stefan here?” She looks at Elena. “What’s going on, Elena?”

Damon takes a fortifying sip of whiskey. _Here we go_ , he thinks.


	6. Chapter 6

Thirty minutes after Jenna comes downstairs, Elena finds herself meeting Damon’s eyes in the rearview mirror as she drives to the hospital. Jenna’s still not done berating them for not telling her about Jeremy and Elena can see that Damon has decided to be amused by Jenna’s indignant reaction.

“I just don’t understand how you could _forget_ to tell me,” Jenna says for what Elena estimates to be the fifteenth time. “It’s not _like_ you.”

“I had just found Jeremy after he tried to kill himself,” Elena says, “it wasn’t exactly a normal situation.”

“It’s really my fault,” Damon offers. “I should have thought of it before I took them to hospital.” Jenna twists around to look at Damon over her shoulder, and Elena’s pretty sure it’s not a friendly look. Damon is, of course, unaffected. “I guess I’m just used to being the one in charge and not having anyone to report to,” he continues.

Jenna makes an irritated _humph_ noise, and Elena swallows a smile.

A few minutes later, the three of them are sitting in an ICU waiting area, Elena flanked by Jenna and Damon. The silence is uneasy, and for a moment Elena wishes Stefan were there, until she remembers that he’s possibly the only person who could make the silence _more_ uncomfortable, given the way he’s reacted to Katherine’s return.

Just as the doctor from the night before approaches them, Damon’s phone rings. He pulls it out of his pocket and looks at the display, then up at Elena. “It’s Stefan.” He touches her hand briefly. “I’ll be right back.”

She nods, and Damon slips away. The doctor stops in front of Elena and Jenna, puts out a hand for Jenna to shake.

“I’m Doctor Sheffield,” she says as Jenna stands and shakes her hand. “I understand you’re Jeremy Gilbert’s aunt and guardian?”

“Yes,” Jenna says. “I apologize for not being here last night. I wasn’t told what had happened.”

“Yes, well,” the doctor says tightly, “you’re here now. Mr. Gilbert should be waking up any time now. We’ll need to run some tests on his liver and kidneys, but he’s made it through the night without any incidents and that’s a good sign.”

Elena pushes to her feet. “Can we see him?”

Dr. Sheffield nods. “I imagine it will be easier for him if he wakes up with familiar faces in the room instead of alone.” She shifts her focus back to Jenna. “Once he’s awake and we’ve run our tests, we’ll move him out of the ICU and set up a psych consult.”

“When can we take him home?” Jenna asks.

“That depends,” Dr. Sheffield says carefully. “If he has complications from his overdose, he may need to stay here longer for medical reasons. But even if he’s cleared medically, the psychiatrist may want to keep him here under observation for a while.”

“Oh,” Jenna says. “I guess that makes sense.”

“If you don’t have any other questions, I’ll take you in to his room.”

Jenna nods. “That would be great, thanks.”

Elena looks around, spots Damon striding toward them. She gestures for him to come with them and follows the doctor and Jenna as they head towards Jeremy’s room. Damon catches up to them before they get there, and Elena resists the urge to slip her hand into his.

Damon leans down as they walk and whispers in Elena’s ear. “How’s Jeremy?”

“The same,” she whispers back, not bothering to turn her head because she knows he can hear her perfectly anyway. “What did Stefan say?”

“It’s done, he’s back.”

They reach Jeremy’s room and the doctor ushers them in. Jenna takes the seat next to Jeremy’s bed and Damon guides Elena to the other chair in the room, which he pushes from its spot near the window to the other side of Jeremy’s bed.

“I can get another chair,” the doctor begins, but Damon cuts her off.

“I’m fine standing.”

Dr. Sheffield nods, addresses Jenna. “We’ll be in to check on him periodically. If he wakes, press the call button.”

“Sure,” Jenna says, and Dr. Sheffield leaves the room.

They sit in silence for a while, until Jenna and Elena simultaneously yawn hugely. Damon doesn’t quite manage to stifle a chuckle and strides to Elena’s side from where he’d been leaning against the window. He touches her shoulder and she looks up at him.

“Why don’t I go get you two some coffee? I’ll be right back.”

Elena nods. She feels relatively safe in the pristine confines of the hospital; it seems far too public for Katherine to try anything here, though she’s sure the only reason Damon hasn’t made excuses and left is that he’s worried for Elena’s safety.

“Thanks,” she says.

Jenna murmurs her own thanks, but she’s watching Elena as Damon walks out of the room, an odd look on her face. Elena wonders for a moment if Damon’s compelling talents might be slipping. But Jenna doesn’t seem angry, just curious and possibly a little suspicious.

“Where’s Stefan?” she asks when Damon’s out the door. “I would have thought he’d be the one sticking with you through this, not his older brother.”

Elena feels her stomach sink at the reminder of Stefan’s abandonment of her. “I don’t know,” she says, and realizes sadly that it’s the truth even if she can make a reasonable guess that he’d gone back to his house. “He was acting weird last night.” Also the truth, if slightly misleading since Jenna had no way of knowing Elena had seen Stefan at the hospital.

“Have you called him? You could probably use the moral support.”

Elena sighed. “I… left him a message,” she improvised. “He hasn’t gotten back to me.” Elena rolled her shoulders. “Damon’s been great,” she adds defensively.

“He looks at you like…” Jenna trails off.

“Like what?” Elena presses, and she realizes how much she wants the opinion of someone who doesn’t know about all the _baggage_.

“Like you’re not his _brother’s girlfriend_ ,” Jenna says.

Elena feels her cheeks burn a little.

“I don’t think playing games is right under any circumstances,” Jenna adds. “But Elena, if there’s one tightrope you really don’t want to walk, it’s the one between two brothers.”

Elena shakes her head a little. “Jenna, you have no idea how much I know that.”

Jenna narrows her eyes. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

Elena schools her features to a neutral look. “I know,” she says calmly. _Not on your life, Jenna_ , she thinks. _I am_ not _involving you in this._

&&&&&&

Damon figures he’s probably supposed to feel guilty for standing a few yards away from the door to Jeremy’s room and listening in on Jenna and Elena’s conversation, but he’s too busy trying – and failing – _not_ to feel guilty for being glad that the winner in the battle for Elena’s affections isn’t quite as clear-cut as Stefan might want to believe. He strides down the hallway trying to remind himself that he’s Damon Salvatore and he’s left a string of confused co-eds with bite marks on their skin everywhere he goes with no remorse, he should not be tied in so many knots over one seventeen-year-old girl.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, sighs, and wonders when he’ll get over this do-the-right-thing phase.

Stefan answers on the third ring. “Damon? Did something happen, is something wrong?”

“No,” Damon answers. “I just thought you might like an update considering that _your girlfriend_ is going through a crisis and you didn't stay on the line long enough to _get_ one a few minutes ago. It looks like the kid’s gonna make it, which is a relief for many reasons, not least of which is that I won’t have to cover up a disappearance from the morgue today.” _Also it makes Elena happy_ , he adds silently. He’d never say it out loud.

“That’s good,” Stefan says. “Elena must be pleased.”

“Well, he’s not conscious at the moment so there’s no confetti yet.” Damon swings into the hospital cafeteria and gets in line. “Jenna was wondering why you’ve abandoned Elena in her time of need.”

“I haven’t,” Stefan begins, but he trails off and sighs. “It’s hard, Damon.”

“Brother, you have no idea. I thought you were supposed to be the one who had long-since moved on from Katherine and I was the one with the hang-up. Two coffees, please,” he says to the girl behind the counter. He cradles his phone between his ear and his shoulder and digs a few bills out of his wallet.

“It’s not that simple, Damon.”

“It’s not that complicated, Stefan.” Damon hands over the money for the coffee and takes the two cups the girl holds out. “Keep the change,” he says to her. “Katherine being back doesn’t change who Elena is,” he continues, heading back in the direction of Jeremy’s room.

“I know that,” Stefan answers, voice tight. “But if she’s back…” He seems to be groping for words, and Damon thinks he can hear his brother’s footsteps as he paces around whatever room he’s in back at the house. “It could be more dangerous for Elena if she’s with me. Us,” he corrects himself.

“Bzzzt, wrong answer!” Damon says coldly. “Katherine would come after Elena with or without us around and you know it. She’s fascinated with the idea of having a doppelganger. Leaving Elena alone could be a death sentence.” The thought sends a shiver down Damon’s spine. “I won’t let you put Elena in more danger because you still have feelings for Katherine.”

The words are out before Damon has a chance to think about them, but the silence at the other end of the line speaks volumes and Damon stops in his tracks. “Christ, that’s what it is, isn’t it?”

“Damon,” Stefan growls warningly.

“No, I’m right, aren’t I?” He resumes walking. “It was one thing when you thought she was dead, or that even if she was alive she’d never be coming back. But now she’s here and _you want her back_. Did you ever really want Elena at all, or was she just your chance to have a kinder, gentler Katherine?”

“Shut up, Damon.”

“Truth hurts, does it? Tell you what,” Damon says, lowering his voice as he approaches the door to Jeremy’s room. “You can _have_ Katherine. I’ve recently come to the realization that the only reason I’d want to see her would be to see her burn.” He turns into the room and hands Jenna her coffee. “I’ll see you later,” he says into the phone. Without waiting for an answer, he grabs it from where he’d been holding it between shoulder and ear and presses the button to disconnect.

He makes his way around Jeremy’s bed to Elena’s side. She tilts her head at him questioningly as he hands over her coffee. “Stefan,” he says quietly. He nods towards Jeremy. “Any change?”

Elena shakes her head. “Is Stefan coming here?”

Damon clenches his jaw a little. “I don’t think so,” he admits, and feels even more anger towards his erstwhile brother when Elena’s face falls.

They don’t speak for some time, minutes ticking by whilst Damon paces by the window and Jenna and Elena hold Jeremy’s hands or brush their fingers over his cheeks. Damon’s in the middle of debating the pros and cons of going after Katherine and coming up with contingencies depending on whether or not his brother goes off the deep end when his thoughts are interrupted by gasps from Jenna and Elena.

“Jeremy!” they exclaim simultaneously. Damon whirls around and in two strides is standing beside Elena, automatically gripping her shoulder, unsure if it’s in comfort or restraint. He’s pretty sure Jeremy isn’t going to be happy with his sister for foiling his attempt to become a vampire and he’s not sure how many more emotional hits Elena can take.

Jeremy blinks in confusion. He opens his mouth and tries to speak, then coughs at the effort.

Jenna reaches for the call button and presses it, then grabs Jeremy’s hand again and squeezes it. “Welcome back,” she says, smiling.

He clears his throat and looks around the room blearily, finally focusing on Damon. “Did it work?” he says, voice raspy.

Damon rolls his eyes. Did the kid really think Damon would let him wake up surrounded by his very-human _family_ if it had? Like Damon would let Elena anywhere near a newly-turned Jeremy. “Sorry kid,” he says coldly, “you haven’t shuffled off this mortal coil quite yet.”

Elena looks up at Damon over her shoulder and narrows her eyes at him. He shrugs; it’s not like she doesn’t know Damon isn’t one to sugarcoat things.

Jeremy shifts his gaze to Elena. “You should have just let me die,” he whispers angrily.

Damon bites back a sigh and thinks longingly of the time when he didn’t give a damn about anyone but himself.


	7. Chapter 7

After a few hours of Jeremy giving her the silent treatment while he’s fussed over by doctors and psychiatrists, Elena finally lets Jenna talk her into going home. Damon snatches her car keys out of her hand and stands in front of the driver’s side door before she can get in.

“I’ll drive,” he says, and his tone brooks no argument. Elena decides she doesn’t really have the energy to fight him on this one and just gives him a mutinous look before circling her car and getting in on the passenger side.

Damon doesn’t say anything as he drives away from the hospital and Elena is grateful that he seems to understand that she doesn’t really want to talk. She’s lost in her thoughts until she realizes that they’re on the road to the Salvatore house instead of her own.

“Damon, why aren’t we going to my house?”

Damon glances at her and then back at the road. “Because I’m not leaving you there alone, I’m hungry, and somehow I doubt you’ve got any O-negative in your fridge.”

Elena looks over at Damon in surprise. “You should have said something. You didn’t have to stay all that time.”

“Yes, I did.”

Elena is slightly taken aback by the fierceness of Damon’s tone. She hears Isobel’s voice in her head again telling her that Damon’s in love with her, Damon’s voice telling her about what he’d unknowingly said to Katherine the night before. She studies his profile and something tightens around her heart like a fist and she realizes that she’s got some serious thinking to do. The image of Stefan looking anywhere but at her enters her mind unbidden, and she thinks maybe Stefan’s doing the thinking for her.

She and Damon don’t speak again for the rest of the drive. Elena pushes herself to her feet, shuts the car door, and jumps slightly when Damon appears at her side. “Stefan’s here,” he says softly, and she doesn’t ask how he knows. “Are you up for that?”

Elena stares up at the house for a moment. “Yeah,” she says, trying to sound sure of herself. “I’ll be fine.”

Damon rests his hand at the small of her back as they walk into the house. Elena thinks maybe she shouldn’t let him, not when she and Stefan are experiencing a major roadblock and he’s already sensitive about her relationship with Damon. But she also can’t ignore the fact that Stefan has acted less like her boyfriend than Damon has in the last twenty-four hours and she can’t help but be angry with him for it. Maybe walking into the house with Damon touching her is a petty thing to do, but after all, she’s only human.

They find Stefan pacing in the living room. He looks up when they come in and his gaze skitters over Elena before focusing on his brother, and Elena wonders just how long Stefan can continue acting like this.

“Hello Stefan,” Damon says with his usual brand of sarcastically forced cheerfulness. “I trust you had a pleasant night.”

“I think our definitions of pleasant differ, Damon.”

“Potayto, potahto,” Damon says blithely. “I’m hungry, and if I stay here and listen to you two attempt to talk it’ll put me off my brunch.” He smirks at Stefan but then leans in to speak softly in Elena’s ear, despite the fact that they both know Stefan will hear what he says regardless of how quietly he says it. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

His breath tickles her ear (she’s pretty sure that’s why he’s bothering to whisper in the first place) and she sees Stefan’s fists clench but she nods. “Thanks.”

Damon leaves the room with a sardonic nod to his brother and Elena takes a hesitant step towards Stefan, twisting her fingers together nervously. Stefan seems fascinated by his shoes.

“I’m not Katherine,” Elena says quietly.

“I know that,” Stefan replies immediately. He doesn’t look up.

“Why won’t you look at me?”

Stefan lifts his face, but his eyes don’t quite meet hers. “It’s complicated,” he says.

“Complicated,” Elena says bitterly. “It’s no more complicated today than it was yesterday. Katherine being here doesn’t change me, and it shouldn’t change you. Even I realized her coming back here was a possibility; you can’t tell me you didn’t.”

“I…” Stefan trails off, looks back down at his shoes.

“I _needed_ you, Stefan. I needed my boyfriend to be there for me, and you _weren’t_.”

“Elena.” He takes an involuntary step forward, stops himself. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you? You still won’t look at me! And if this is what happens when you just _hear_ about Katherine being _around_ , how are you going to react when you actually _run into her_?” Elena crosses the distance between them and shoves his shoulder. “I need to be able to trust you!” She shoves at him again. “Dammit, Stefan, look at me!”

Stefan finally, _finally_ meets her eyes, and his are full of regret. Elena’s heart sinks. “Can I trust you?” she asks, and she’s proud of herself because her voice only wavers a little.

Stefan closes his eyes. “Elena…”

Elena steps back. “I’ll take that as a no.”

Stefan opens his eyes again, gives her a pleading look. “I can’t… separate things. In my head, I can’t…”

“It shouldn’t be that hard,” Elena says sadly. “You once told me you loved me because I _wasn’t_ Katherine. Because of how different I am. Was it all a lie?”

Stefan clenches his jaw and doesn’t say anything.

Elena shakes her head, takes a deep breath. “I don’t need this right now,” she says firmly. “I’ve got enough on my plate with Jeremy and John and Katherine, I can’t waste time and energy trying to tiptoe around your issues. I can’t be solid for you if you can’t be solid for me.”

“I need time,” Stefan begins, but Elena cuts him off.

“Time is something we might not have. Look what’s happened in the past twenty-four hours alone. You’ve had over a hundred years’ worth of time, Stefan.” She rakes a hand through her hair, blows out a frustrated breath. “Look, Stefan. If you want Katherine, you can have her,” she says, unknowingly echoing Damon’s earlier words. “You obviously don’t want me, and I’m not up for fighting any more losing battles.”

Without waiting for a response, Elena turns on her heel and heads toward the kitchen, where she imagines Damon has been listening in on every word. She walks in and finds him leaning casually against the counter, a ceramic mug in his hand presumably filled with blood. His gaze is penetrating, but she doesn’t flinch away. He tilts his head slightly.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and for once he actually sounds sincere. She narrows her eyes at him, looking for the catch. “I mean it,” he says quietly. “It isn’t fair to you, Katherine coming back and fucking everything up. Again.”

Elena raises an eyebrow, leans against the counter a few feet away from Damon. “It’s not exactly fair for you, either.”

Damon shrugs. “I don’t know about that, but it certainly pisses me off.” He drains the contents of his mug. “I’m a selfish man, Elena. She made my life hell once already, and now she’s doing it again. Don’t assign higher motives than that to me.”

Elena tilts her head slightly, and one corner of her lips lifts into a wry half-smile. “Liar,” she says distinctly.

Damon’s eyes widen slightly then narrow, the reactive version of his flirty eye-thing, and Elena raises her eyebrows again, daring him to contradict her. He stares at her and doesn’t rise to the bait, and the moment gets heavy with unspoken words until they hear a door slam. Stefan must have left, Elena thinks. Damon turns to the fridge and opens it.

“I should take you home,” he says, pulling out a package of blood and tossing it the microwave.

“Is there any way to… un-invite Katherine in?” Elena asks, though she’s almost entirely certain the answer is no.

Damon shakes his head. The microwave dings and he pulls out the package of blood, empties it into his mug. Elena wrinkles her nose a little at the smell, but says nothing. Damon drinks a little. “An invitation is permanent until a house comes under new ownership. So unless you can convince Jenna to move…” Elena shakes her head unnecessarily.

“In fact,” Damon continues, “if it weren’t for Jenna and Jeremy and knowing that you wouldn’t leave them, I’d say you should move in here. As long as only dead people live here, no invitation is required, but if you moved in it would be a different story. You’d be safer.”

“I can’t just abandon my family,” Elena insists.

Damon sighs. “Of course you can’t. Self-preservation isn’t your strong suit, Elena.”

“I’ve got you watching my back,” she says without thinking. “And it _is_ yours.” It’s only after the words are out of her mouth that she realizes how much she’s assuming, how much she could be implying by saying that having him at her back means she doesn’t have to worry about her own tendency to put others first.

It’s only after those thoughts occur to her that she realizes how much she wants him at her back. Because _he’s in love with you_ keeps echoing in her head and because she keeps thinking about Atlanta and the Miss Mystic Falls pageant and snarky telephone conversations and the way she felt when he’d taken her hand before everything went to hell the night before and the terror she felt when she realized that he had been taken and could have been dying.

Damon puts down his mug and steps towards her and she wonders if it counts as being on the rebound if the truth is that they’ve been heading in this direction for far longer than either of them would probably care to admit.

&&&&&&

Damon crosses the short distance between himself and Elena slowly, unconsciously emphasizing the fact that he’s the very kind of predator from which she needs protection. He comes to a stop in front of her, leans forward and braces his hands against the counter on either side of her, boxing her in.

“You trust me that much?”

Elena nods. “You’ve earned it,” she says. “If there’s one thing I’ve always believed about you, it’s been what motivates you.”

Damon leans in, close enough so their breaths mingle. “Is that so? Do tell.” He thinks he knows what she’ll say, would normally scoff at it, but right now… it’s been a shitty twenty-four hours and somewhere in all that hell, Damon thinks even he deserves a respite. Elena’s his, and if that means he has to allow her to pull a real emotion or two out of him, then right now he will.

“Love,” Elena says after a moment’s hesitation. “You go to the wall for people you love.”

The truth of what she says hangs in the scant space of air between them and electrifies it. “You make it sound noble,” he breathes.

She shakes her head. “No. Just… consistent.” Damon lets his hips brush against hers and her eyes widen briefly before she collects herself. “Sometimes it makes you do terrible things,” she adds softly.

“I won’t let anything happen to you.” His voice is quietly implacable, but he’s more afraid than he’d admit to even himself that something will happen to her anyway. He touches his forehead to hers. “I won’t lose you.”

“Damon…”

He cuts off whatever she was going to say with his lips, and kissing her now makes him wonder why he couldn’t tell right away that he was kissing Katherine before. He tightens his hands on the counter, some rational and uncharacteristically upright corner of his mind reminding him that he just listened in on her breaking up with Stefan and that she’s been through as much hell as he has in the last twenty-four hours. He can’t trust himself not to push things too far too fast, not if he puts his hands on her right now.

She’s kissing him back, though, so he white-knuckles the counter and tells himself it’s enough. Her hands come up to frame his face and she pulls back slightly, breaking the kiss and looking up at him.

“Why do I feel like her?” she asks, and Damon kicks himself mentally.

“Don’t,” he says, sharper than he intends. “You aren’t doing anything wrong.”

She drops her hands to his chest, sighs. “I promise you, Damon, I _promise_ you that I won’t play you like she did.”

“Shut up,” he says, silencing her with a hard and fast kiss. “I already know that.” This time it’s his hands framing her face. “I trust you, Elena.”

And just like that, he knows he’s done the one thing he swore he’d never do again, and knowingly, openly placed his heart in someone else’s hands. He won’t speak of love; he knows she’s not ready to hear it from him quite yet and nowhere near ready to say it back. But they both know that from him, an admission of trust is just as meaningful, if not more so.

Tears gather in the corners of Elena’s eyes and Damon brushes them away with his thumbs when they spill over. “Hey,” he says softly, “it’ll be okay.”

She nods. “Eventually,” she says. “How can everything have gone so crazy in one day?”

Damon laughs humorlessly, drops his hands to her hips. “Story of my life. And my death, for that matter. If it weren’t for the crazy vampire out there who might want to kill you, I’d say you were better off without me.”

Elena shakes her head. “I don’t think so,” she murmurs. “If nothing else,” she adds, somehow summoning a grin, “my life would be a hell of a lot less interesting without you in it.”

“I live to entertain,” Damon returns wryly.

Elena smiles, but any reply she may have come up with is smothered in a huge yawn.

“You should rest,” Damon says, noting that despite the light makeup she’s wearing he can see faint signs of dark circles under her eyes.

She shakes her head. “No, I should go back to the hospital.”

“Sure,” Damon says easily. “After you take a nap.” Without another word, he sweeps her off her feet and begins carrying her toward the stairs.

“Damon!” she exclaims, and he’s pleased to hear amusement along with the annoyance in her voice.

“No arguments, Elena,” he says with a slight sing-song in his voice. She rolls her eyes but wraps her arms around his neck and doesn’t insist to be put back down. He takes her to his own room and although she raises her eyebrows at him, she doesn’t comment until he deposits her on the bed.

“I hope these sheets are clean,” she says with a faux-stern look, and Damon thinks he hasn’t met very many people as resilient as Elena Gilbert.

“Scout’s honor.” Damon throws her a mock salute.

“Yeah, right,” she mutters, but she pulls her shoes off and Damon knows he’s won. “Don’t let me sleep too long,” she says, handing him her shoes.

“I promise,” he says, and he smiles. “As long as you sleep for a little while. You can’t fix anything if you don’t rest for a while.”

Elena reaches out and touches Damon’s arm lightly. “Thank you,” she says.

“It’s nothing.”

She shakes her head. “It’s everything.”

Before Damon can formulate a reply, she lays down and rolls to face the other direction. He decides he can’t stoop to the level of domesticity that would be required to kiss her before leaving her or the level of mushiness that would be required for him to come up with anything else to say. He sets her shoes down at the foot of his bed and heads towards the door.

He stops and turns to look back at her before shutting the door. There is a whole host of things Damon is not looking forward to dealing with in the immediate future, including but not limited to Jeremy, Katherine, and Stefan, and Damon is not as a rule a sentimental man. But he thinks maybe if he gets to keep seeing Elena’s dark hair spread out over his pillows, it’ll be worth the work.


End file.
